


and youd be lyin if you said you werent scared

by abo_trash



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/F, POV Second Person, Past Rape/Non-con, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10652913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abo_trash/pseuds/abo_trash
Summary: it’s when her head is on your thigh, her fingers tracing curly little lines up and down your skin and your own fingers tangled in her hair, that she says it. you’re so startled that you nearly yank her hair trying to get your hand free, and the soft hiss when you tug too hard is all that stops you from doing so. instead, you kind of freeze, staring down at her, and she refuses to meet your eye, staring off into the distance. staring at the ground, or maybe your wall. you’re not too sure which one. but it isn’t you.---heather chandler talks to heather mcnamara about her suicidal thoughts.





	and youd be lyin if you said you werent scared

**Author's Note:**

> oh look, another writing exercise. this is from heather mcnamaras perspective.

it’s when her head is on your thigh, her fingers tracing curly little lines up and down your skin and your own fingers tangled in her hair, that she says it. you’re so startled that you nearly yank her hair trying to get your hand free, and the soft hiss when you tug too hard is all that stops you from doing so. instead, you kind of freeze, staring down at her, and she refuses to meet your eye, staring off into the distance. staring at the ground, or maybe your wall. you’re not too sure which one. but it isn’t you.

“what?” you say, and she shrugs, as if it’s not worth repeating, and you’re almost asking it again when she speaks, repeats what she had said, and confirming your worst nightmare.

“i’ve thought about killing myself. everyone has, haven’t they? thought about how nice a blade would feel against your wrists or how blissful choking down a hand full of pills would be.” the way that she says it, with the sigh in her voice that’s almost dreamy, makes your heart ache. you swallow against the lump in your throat and shake your head, even though you know she can’t see you. she starts talking again before you can say anything, her eyes focused distantly on the wall in front of her. “i’m not gonna do it though, don’t worry. that’s the easy way out. since when have I ever taken the easy way?”

the laugh that follows is bitter, sharp, and reminds you of what she had said before. about how many times boys have pushed her into the bathroom at parties, how many times she’s woken up with no memories of the night before, how many times they’ve forced her head down and she's been a good girl and swallowed. you’ve been there too, and the only reason you aren’t right now is because there are no parties to go to tonight. there’s no dates either, so there’s no switching for one another when one of you is too sore to keep it all up. not that you’d ever complain about being switched for, and neither will they, but you all know it hurts, and to hear her say that it’s done this to her, well. it stings.

“no i… i don’t think it’s normal. i don’t think normal people think about stuff like that,” you say, only half believing yourself, because you’ve thought about it, and considered yourself weak for it. to hear her voicing that she’s thought about it too, well, it worries you, in a way that you aren’t sure how to deal with. but you’re going to try to. you’re going to try, even if it kills you.

“have you thought about it?” she asks, and turns to look at you. there’s something in her eyes that makes your heart heavy, and you can’t look into them for too long, before you jerk your eyes away, staring off to the side. at the floor, or maybe the bed. somewhere in between, really. you wouldn’t know what to tell her if she asked what you were looking at, but luckily, she doesn’t, she just waits for your response, even as your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip.

“no. of course not,” you lie and it’s obvious. but she doesn’t call you on that. she stares up at you, for a few moments more, before she looks away, back to the wall or the floor or whatever she’s staring at, and you only look back once you feel her head turn away. her eyes are distant, even though they aren’t looking at you, and you almost wish you could kiss her to wipe it all away. but you don’t. you don’t do anything like that. because that’s gay, that would make you a lesbo, a dyke, and you aren’t a dyke. you’re straight. you date guys and let them kiss you and fuck you and that makes you straight. right?

right.

“okay,” she says. it’s quiet, a soft sound, but it doesn’t say that she doesn’t believe you. it’s just an okay. a soft okay, almost mumbled against the soft skin of your thigh, but it’s just an okay. nothing more, and nothing less. for a moment, you’re both just sitting there again, the silence stretching thin and bordering awkward, when she finally glances up to you, just from the corner of her eye. “if you ever tell anyone what i said…”

“i won’t,” you assure as she trails off, and she stares at you, for a moment. it’s enough for her to look over your features, enough to let her know that you’re being serious, when she turns back towards the wall, and when she goes slack against you again. it’s almost relaxed, but it’s not a good almost relaxed. it’s the same type of relaxed you do when there’s no fighting what the boys want, and you just let them take it. she’s letting you take her, and you almost wish you had the guts to, even if it would make you just as bad as all the boys who had snuck hands up your skirt, or pills in your drinks, or you off somewhere where no one could hear you scream. but you’re not them. you’re you, and all you do instead is twirl a finger in her hair and watch it curl around your finger.

“good,” she breathes, before she’s silent again, barely speaking loud enough you can hear her. you don’t say anything else, because there’s nothing else to say, and neither does she. you both stay silent, because there’s no point in saying anything else. you’re both aware of what you both think now, and while she trusted you enough to open up, you’re too scared of what will spill out if you do. you want to break your chest open for her and want her to watch it all cascade free in a waterfall of repressed feelings, but you can’t even afford a crack in the dam, let alone a hole. so you say nothing, and she says nothing, and it’s quiet between you two once more.

 


End file.
